A look of disgust passed over Narry's features, his eyes fixed on the mirror before him. He took a section of hair in one hand, the other groping the counter for the familiar touch of metal. Anxiously his fingers found the handle, pulling the blades apart as if to test them. With a final convincing sigh, he brought the scissors to the back of his neck, open expectantly around the knotted mop in his hand.

The hair fell to the ground with a triumphant snip!

Quicker now, he took off more of the hair he'd once been so fond of. The rug beneath his feet became littered with blond strands, but the idea of cleaning it escaped his thoughts. He let his eyes trail back to the mirror, looking over the absence behind his ears and neck with a grin.

It was cut messily and unevenly, but he felt a weight off his shoulders. A laugh escaped his lips, followed by another. He doubled over, laughing until he couldn't stop.
The world felt dulled behind him.
The doorknob turned by shaky hands; someone saying something he didn't hear; the same someone picking him up off the floor where he'd fallen.

His eyes barely registered the frantic flash of green irises, trying to catch his gaze.

"Narry," someone sighed in his ear. No, not someone—Artemis. "What did you do?"

Suddenly alert, he sat up, feeling Artemis shift beneath him. A hand held him steady, Artemis' soft voice telling him to hold still. Narry stared for a moment at his awkward positioning on Artemis' lap, how he got there gone from his memory. His fingers frantically shot to the back of his head, the hair now neatly and evenly trimmed.

Artemis nudged Narry's hand away softly with the blunt end of the scissors. "Quit it, I'm not done yet. No offense, but you did a terrible job cutting your own hair."

Narry looked blankly at his reflection. "Thanks," he mumbled, trying to recognize the face in the mirror as his own. "I mean, for fixing my hair. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Artemis murmured, brushing a few stray strands of hair off Narry's shoulder and trimming a few longer strands. He squinted to make sure he'd cut evenly, smoothing the hair under his thumb. "There, done. How does it look? Do you like it?"

"It's fine, thanks." Narry laughed at the few streaks of blond still visible against his white-washed hair. "Remind me to buy more hair color for—" he ruffled the mess of hair still at the top of his head—"this, though."

"You know it's not going to last," Artemis reminded him softly. "And then you'll be half-blond-and-half-not again."

"I know," Narry glanced at his reflection again. "But white hair adds like 20 years to my look."

Artemis stifled a laugh, kissing the freshly-cut hair on the back of Narry's neck. "You look fine, with or without white hair."

Narry turned his head to meet Artemis' lips with his own. "Thanks, again...for fixing it."

"It was a pleasure," Artemis laughed. "Your hair is so soft, and you never let me touch it." He ran his fingers through Narry's hair as he spoke, tugging at the knots. "And it looks so nice now—"

"It looked better before," Narry cut him off bitterly, swatting Artemis' hand. His expression softened, realizing what he'd said. "It wasn't anything you did, though. No, you did a lovely job. I just—I don't know why I cut it. I wanted to grow it out."

"It'll grow back," Artemis reassured him, pulling him against his chest. "And it'll look just like it did before."

"I know," Narry sighed, relaxing at Artemis' embrace. "I know."